It was
like a kaleidoscope for color: the bouquets of crimson or white or pink or
purple; the profusion of pretty dresses, the brilliant, tender fabrics,
and the handsome, foreshortened faces thrown back over white shoulders in
laughter; glossy raven hair and fair tresses moving in quick salutations;
and the whole gay shimmer of festal tints and rich artificialities set off
against the brave green of out-doors, for the walls were solidly adorned
with forest branches, with, here and there amongst them, a blood-red droop
of beech leaves, stabbed in autumn's first skirmish with summer. The night
was cool, and the air full of flower smells, while harp, violin, and
'cello sent a waltz-throb through it all.
They looked rapidly through several rooms and failed to find her indoors,
and they went outside, not exchanging a word, and though Harkless was a
little lame, Tom barely kept up with his long stride. On the verandas
there were fairy lamps and colored incandescents over little tables, where
people sat chatting. She was not there. Beyond was a terrace, where a
myriad of Oriental lanterns outlined themselves clearly in fantastically
shaped planes of scarlet and orange and green against the blue darkness.
Many couples and groups were scattered over the terrace, and the young men
paused on the steps, looking swiftly from group to group.
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